Metal Gear Solid V: An Odyssey
by Moviefreak45
Summary: "People have always told me that the most dangerous type of person is one with nothing left to lose. I've never found that to be true. The thing I've found is that the most dangerous kind of person is the one with one last thing to save." -Unknown. Rated M for graphic content and dark themes. This is my first fanfic, and the genres may change considering that I could only fit 2 in.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Heart monitors sounded off as was their intended use, as did the respirator. Soft light filled the somehow mostly darkened room in the center. Scientists, equipped with precautionary gas masks, in lab coats crowded around a table jotting down more notes than there was paper.

Everyone stopped and looked up as the door hissed open and closed with someone entering with two armed guards equipped with shotguns and gas masks. The man that came in was a lean, muscular man with a lab coat and gas mask on, stopping to stand in front of the table. More than likely a military scientist, considering his build and how he looked over the files given to him.

"Alright, assuming you've had enough time to take notes, let's begin," he said with a gruff, but heavily accented voice. His accent was incredibly hard to place. It didn't sound like it belonged to any one dialect.

"What we have here is a 'special' case of sorts," he continued. "Notice the injuries on the subject. Some are infected but we've been able to get the infections under control. Small cuts that formed over time are not self-inflicted. It appears from what we gathered, that physical and mental impairment are inevitable, obviously with the state the subject's in."

It was harder than it should have been to try and place what language was being spoken. It wasn't Russian, Afrikaans, European, Mandarin, sure as hell wasn't English.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"As you can more than likely gather, the subject is very lucky to be alive. The small but plentiful pustules around the lungs and chest areas are evidence of that. Previous subjects have not lasted nearly as long as this one. Almost all have lasted less or more than a week, tops. A few had gotten farther, but gave out around the second week of experimentation." Very well educated, that much could be deduced. "I know what some of you are thinking, no human could survive this for this long without outside assistance."

Weird. Couldn't identify the language, but understood it fluently.

"You would be right, if the subject was ONLY human." That sentence had everyone looking up from their clipboards, puzzled expressions showed from underneath their gas masks. There were a few moments of silence before the military scientist broke it. "These X-rays will explain what I don't have to." X-rays were put up depicting very interesting, albeit disturbing injuries of the subject. The man pointed to each vital organ on the X-rays. "Liver. Stomach. Pancreas. Intestines. Lungs. All burnt to a crisp."

Who the hell were these people?

'How is that even possible?" one of the scientists asked in the mysterious language. The military scientist responded, "Well, the specific steps WERE above your pay grade, but all of you have been chosen specifically because of your skill set. You work for us now."

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"Can we ask what her background is, sir?" another one of the scientists asked. "I'm really glad you asked that," the military scientist responded, thumbing through a few pages.

What are these people doing here?

"The subject WAS one of the most impressively efficient soldiers the battlefield could offer. Top score in every field test. Impeccable mission success rate. Last known mission was to assassinate a target whose identity is classified."

Where the hell even was here?

"Mission: failure. Received third and fourth degree burns before falling out of a three or four-story window. Underwent certain therapy that was greenlit by a man that shall remain nameless, deceased now, but the therapy that revived the subject is what's interesting about her. Apparently, this "therapy" healed her on the outside, and kept her alive. The subject managed to find herself under the command of a man named 'Big Boss.' Made quite a name for themselves in Afghanistan."

"I'm sorry, you mean THE 'Big Boss?' one of the scientists asked. "Yeah, THE 'Big Boss,'" replied the military scientist. As soon as the legendary soldier's name was mentioned with the subject, there was an atmosphere of doubt and paranoia around the scientists. They wouldn't admit it, but it didn't take a genius to figure out that this was very dangerous ground they were stepping on. "What kind of therapy she underwent is what we've brought you all here to look into," the military scientist stated.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

The heart monitors started spiking and beeping uncontrollably. Her heart rate increased drastically, her pulse rate was almost dangerously high, and her body temperature was at 105 Fahrenheit. Small lesions and cuts began to open up and bleed, spilling fresh blood onto the floor and table followed by a violent seizure causing her to cough up blood as she twisted in agony and the tiny gray/purple pustules on her chest began to leak a mixture of glisteningly clear liquid and blood. Blood began leaking out of her ears, eyes, nose and mouth as her eyes began to roll into the back of her head as the military scientist and the two other personnel tried to hold her down.

The scientists began to back away as the disturbing scene unfolded in front of them. The amount of blood on the floor and table, the violent, unpredictable convulsions, and the sight of the poor woman being helpless to stop it all was enough for anyone to experience for one day, if not a lifetime.

"I can't do this, I can't do this, I can't do this, this isn't what I came her for!" one of the doctors screamed, beginning to hyperventilate. The military scientist managed to get his sights on the doctor panicking while he was still restraining the subject. "Keep her under control before she does something stupid!" he said, taking the respirator out of the subject's mouth.

The other scientists moved closer in an attempt to reason with the female doctor. She caught them in her peripheral vision and swung wildly. "NO! NO! I have to get out! I have to get out now!" Without warning, she ran for the only door in the room. One of the guards reached out to grab her, but remembered he had to restrain the convulsing, bleeding woman on the table.

The female doctor ran for the door and slammed herself against the door in a fruitless attempt to open it. "Let me out! Let me out!" She turned back, realizing it was fruitless, just in time to see a huge amount of blood erupt from the subject's mouth. That was the final straw. The female scientist went wide-eyed and threw up inside her mask.

Panicking because of the sloshy, chunky liquid in the mask was restricting her breathing, she made her last mistake and pulled off the gas mask in an attempt to get oxygen. The rest of the other scientists backed away from her.

The military scientist noticed, "Ah, fuck! Get a sedative on the subject!"

Moments later, one of the guards pulled out a small syringe and pricked it into the subject's neck. She still continued to struggle valiantly, but the convulsions and bleeding soon subsided. The military scientist just stared at the floor of the room, which was practically coated with blood and vomit.

He then set his eyes on the female scientist gulping in air. Pulling out his sleek 9mm Beretta sidearm, he walked over to her slowly.

"What is your primary language?

The female scientist, confused, replied, "What?"

He raised the gun to her head. "What is your native language?" he said in a calm tone.

She hesitated, "English."

"Speak it. Now."

She replied in English. "I'm sorry, I-."

She was cut off by a bullet piercing her skull. "Yes…yes, you are," said the military scientist.

The other doctors could do nothing but look on in horror. The military scientist wiped blood off his gas mask, took the clip out of his gun and held it in his hand. "Anyone else care to have an emotional breakdown?" the military scientist said in the weird language, holding the clip up for the group to see. When no one replied, he put the clip back in the gun and holstered it. "Any of you breathe a word of what you've seen here, you better hope you see the inside of a prison cell," the military scientist threatened. "Get her body out of here," he commanded to the two guards.

The response from the doctors consisted of a lot of terrified glances at the bodily fluids on the floor and their dead colleague. "When conducting your research concerning the subject, you will have to have a label for her. There were a lot of names for her in Afghanistan, but just simply call her Tixij."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

(This fic will have some music pop up at certain points, so I would recommend to the readers to go ahead and listen to the music listed in the chapters. Each chapter will have a description of the song so no one gets lost)

(Song "Bennie and the Jets" by Elton John starts playing.)

Music.

It wasn't near, but she could hear it. Now that she noticed, it was the only thing she could hear. Another thing she noticed: it was quiet, almost absolutely quiet, except for the music and heart monitors.

Even for her, this was unnerving, especially in darkness. A variety of little details soon hit her: 1. It was relatively cold, and the air was extremely dry, 2. She was either strapped to a bed or table, not being able to move gave it away, 3. She was becoming more of her senses. That's when she knew the room wasn't dark.

Her eyelids parted lazily to let some light in. She was still disoriented, except for the music playing and the bright light literally shining in her face. Everything was blurry to an extent. There was a giant light above her, the only thing illuminating the room. The whole room was concrete, possibly meters thick.

The music was coming from just down the hall. There was a hallway? Must be a guard outside.

She tried to move….and failed. She soon realized she was strapped chest to toes down to the table. She could move her head, though. She scanned all corners of the room, turning her head in any angle allowed until her eyes rested on a disturbing sight. She really wished her head had been strapped down, too.

What she saw was just a huge accumulative amount of dried blood on or around the table she was strapped to. Was that vomit, too? Alongside that, the amount of lesions and tiny little bumps on her chest had almost tripled since she had last checked.

There was a noticeable and quite literal blood trail, too. It led from the dried puddles on the floor and table to… her? She licked her lips, almost gagging on the unmistakable taste of iron. It was her blood, she could confirm that.

How long have I been here? she thought. She felt weak, like she'd been rationing herself instead of having three meals a day. Partly because there was only artificial light in the room.

She found out a long time ago that artificial light was about as healthy for her as stale bread was to anorexic people.

The music stopped suddenly and she could hear the guard jump to attention. Someone was coming. She assumed her sleeping position just as the door hissed open. Two men walked in, their footsteps were light, so at least they might not be able to overpower her if need be.

"Dammit, didn't they ever think to clean this up?" one of the men asked in the weird language.

What was with this language? More importantly, which was it?

"At least we didn't get assigned to clean-up duty like everywhere else." She could hear notes being jotted down. Braniacs. At least if they had braniacs, this place had to have some degree of funding, right? That helped a little, if at all.

"Listen, this is unethical to ask but, do you think we could get away with…..?" She could only assume what she thought he obviously meant by that. "You can get your dick wet if you want, but that's probably gonna be your funeral, especially when we don't even know how THESE (the parasites) are communicated," the other said. "Just don't come crying to me when you've got mutant syphilis."

Asshole. If it wasn't everyone being untrustworthy of her condition, or the women calling her a slut, it was someone eyeing her body with lust.

"Yeah, whatever. It's a damn shame, though. We were getting some data from her." Data? For what? "Not our problem. We just gotta finish up here, and we'll be set." Why did she get the feeling that this was something **final?**

"What you gonna do once you get out of here?" "Probably go to Scotland, the Caribbean, or Canada. Haven't decided yet." "Really? That's….good, I guess, I never pictured you as a Canadian, eh?" "Hardy fucking har."

The door hissed open and a heavy set man walked in, by the sound of his footsteps. "Any new data?" he asked. "Nothing new, sir," one of the scientists replied. "Really? Surprising," he said mundanely. The man snapped some surgical gloves on and used his fingers to easily pry open her eyelids. Pulling out a small flashlight, he shined the light in her eyes for a few seconds. "Well, there's some new data," he said, a satisfied expression on his face. "What do you mean, sir?" "It appears our 'mute' friend is awake."

Shit.

"Well, took you long enough," he said smugly. She kept her eyes closed just hoping on the off-chance that he might leave her alone. She ultimately decided it was futile and gently let some light through her eyelids, finding the two scientists and a gruff, buffer-looking scientist staring right at her.

"Well, now that we know you're awake, we can continue on," he said. "Well, except for one problem," he said looking back at the two scientists. "What's that, sir?" "The data you've retrieved is phenomenal. Because of that, my superiors believe that that puts you two in a very valuable position, and, personally I hate to be the one that tells you, but I've been given orders to make sure your value drops."

Pulling out his handgun, he put two bullets in both men before they could figure out what he was insinuating. She watched wide-eyed at the man's actions.

She had killed men before. She was no stranger to death. She had brought death to someone in almost every form or another on her missions. But, her other life had taught her the significant lesson of killing without good reason to. She was surprised, but she shouldn't have been.

"Damn shame, too. You two are some of the smartest men I've come into contact with in a long time," he said, kneeling down. He placed a pistol in one scientist's hand and fired a bullet into the corpse of the other scientist. "Nice shot." He slapped the shoulder of the dead scientist and stood up.

Wiping blood off his gas mask, he turned to her. "If it's any consolation, there were a lot of shady people offering prices on your head. These two were planning to sell you to the highest bidder. I hear Soviet Russia's military had some interest, too," he explained in English.

The Soviets. Revenge is contagious, she supposed.

He pulled out a small syringe, filled with clear, yellow liquid. "But, there were no direct orders against that. They were free to do what they wanted with you after they finalized their research. And the thing is, I'm selfish when it comes to having an advantage. So, might wanna get comfortable. Because we're gonna be seeing a lot of time in one another's company. Anyone ever told you that words can kill? Who would've thought it'd be true?" And with that, he injected the syringe into her neck, into the jugular, letting the medicine flow into her bloodstream. "Hopefully, we'll be able to talk under better circumstances next time," he said as he walked towards the door.

She stopped him. "Wait!" Her voice was groggy, almost scratchy. "Who are you?" She was beginning to slip out of consciousness, fighting to stay awake. He stopped as the door hissed open and sighed. "I really wish you hadn't said that." She lost consciousness as he exited the room.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

 **(So, I'm gonna throw this out there. This is admittedly a very unnecessary chapter, but I felt like some readers would be wondering how Quiet got into this mess. This explains it, although it is unnecessary. And some readers have been asking, so I'll clear this up: yes, this fic does take place after and sometimes during MGSV. Very few chapters will be set during MGSV. As I'm sure you're all aware, feedback is greatly appreciated. I'm still new to writing fanfiction so some R &R is appreciated. I'll stop here, I'll try to get another chapter up by the end of the weekend if not Monday next week.)**

Three weeks. It had been three weeks.

Alone in the desert. Microbes literally eating her insides to nothing. This is how she would die.

She would have cursed her fate if she didn't know it had been her choice. She chose to stay behind. After everything she had done, been through, and caused, this might be her redemption. Of all people that deserved to die, no one at Diamond Dogs deserved the fate of what she carried. Least of all the Boss.

She knew she had to leave, she knew the consequences and what they would think, she knew they would hunt her. Especially the Boss. She had done everything she could to make sure they didn't even come close to finding her. Staying mobile as much as she could, she moved all around Afghanistan, creating many a problem for the Soviet military, moving onto the next location and repeating. This whole process enabled her to create something close to, if not by definition, a clusterfuck.

It was starting to get risky, so she stopped, laid low. The infection was beginning to show on her chest, and her strength kept leaving more and more with each passing day. She soon ended up in one place she hadn't been to in a long time.

It was a perfect spot, that's why she initially picked it. The Aabe Shipaf Ruins.

Plenty of open space. A plentiful water supply, plenty of sunlight, and dozens of vantage points.

She placed her rifle on the ground, soaking in the UV rays and the lush Afghan landscape. The only cons to this place were the Soviets and the dry desert air. The Soviets liked to patrol here sometimes, transporting troops or supplies.

Had she had a surplus of ammo, she would've spent her talents doing something to entertain herself. She decided against it, her aim hadn't been as good as it had been the last few weeks.

Besides the dry desert air, there was no light pollution at night so she could gaze up at the stars without having to focus her eyesight. The night sky and the break of dawn were her favorite moments of clarity. At sunrise, it was hard to tell where the sky ended and the Earth began.

 _This was one hell of a place to die, by far,_ she thought.

Some days she spent in pain, with the parasites radiating so much pain it was hard to think. Other days, she would just get tired, like the parasites were draining her energy. She got drowsy, migraines set in more often, and dehydration wasn't much of a problem, but still uncomfortable for someone like her.

Out of everything she had to deal with, the hardest thing was the paranoia. Being paranoid that every little sound in the distance or nearby could mean the end was….painful. And fearing that if/when she went to sleep, she might stay that way,

She dreamed a lot when she slept. She had never dreamed before, or rather, she never paid attention to her dreams or bothered to remember them before. She had started remembering her dreams a while back. She had barely made any headway, but the only thing she remembered about them was the one thing they had in common: they were beautiful. Granted, she forgot most pf them when she woke up, but, the feeling was there.

She always remembered waking herself up from her dreams. That was one thing she remembered vividly. She would be dreaming, a magnificent illusion, she wasn't riddled with parasites, or revenge. She didn't have to kill anyone. She was somewhat peaceful. There was someone by her side, his face was blurred and he was all too familiar but she forgot why he was familiar.

Then something would click, and she would tell herself " _This isn't real."_ Then she would wake up.

A good thing she did wake up. As soon as her eyelids opened, a glint caught her eye. Pure experience and reflex caused her to roll and barely get out of the way to cover before a rifle sounded off and a small piece of stone chipped off the slab near her.

Fresh adrenaline running through her veins, her eyes darted around for a good sniping point, but she was stuck dead in the middle of the ruins. The sniper fired another shot, closer this time, a thin layer of rock and dust erupting from the slab.

It wasn't long before she heard other voices, speaking a weird language.

" _What the hell is…."_ she pushed the thought from her mind, trying to get a strategy together before she was completely surrounded.

The black butterfly appeared in front of her eyes as she raised her rifle, ready to target the sniper. Everything moved in slow-motion, she saw the sniper, accompanied by 12-15 armed soldiers with elite gear and uniforms.

" _So, this is what a last stand looks like,"_ she thought to herself, pulling the trigger. A single gunshot, the sound of broken glass and exposed gray matter followed by a quick jerk of the neck back. She had hit her target….

….but not before he hit his. His shot fired at the exact same time, catching her right in the chest, knocking her back, screaming in pain.

She clutched her chest, looking down to see how much damage the bullet had done.

There was no bullet, but a single small, but strong dart embedded in her chest. She pulled it out and quickly analyzed it.

" _Shit….tranquilizer dart."_ She knew she didn't have much time. This was the worst possible timing for this. But, then again, wasn't this what she was waiting for? A last stand?

She used whatever strength she had (not much) to cloak and take off to find a better sniping point.

The soldiers immediately noticed and cried out, rattling a hailstorm of bullets towards her. In a few quick "strides," she managed to reach the top of one of the towers and ready her rifle.

The butterfly reappeared on her eyes as she had the shot lined up perfectly. The enemy soldiers had lost track of her for the moment, and that was all she needed. She was about to pull the trigger when everything started getting progressively blurry.

Looking down, she saw two slightly bigger tranq. darts embedded in her shoulder and left side. Mustering up her dwindling strength, she fired, catching a soldier in the chest instead of the head. Two more fell before they started converging on the tower she was perched on.

As blurry as everything was getting, she could still point out the unmistakable shape of a rocket launcher aiming at her direction. She had barely gotten out of there when the top of the tower she was just at exploded into pieces, throwing off her landing and deafening her.

She landed in a relatively close spot, and tried to stop her ears from ringing. Only at the last second did she notice a muscular shadow in the corner of her eye.

In an instant, she countered his fist about to collide with her head and shoved her foot into his face, breaking his skull open and a few teeth and sending her towards another soldier with a knife. As fast as he was with the knife, she disarmed him and shoved the knife through his trachea before he could react properly.

Stronger arms then grabbed her neck from behind and pulled out a needle filled with clear fluid. She saw an opening and sent her head flying back, head-butting him and breaking his jaw. She turned around and…

….Snake?

She was more than surprised. But she knew a broken jaw didn't even faze him. He quick drew his tranq. pistol and put another dart in her ribcage. With quick thinking, she cloaked, dodged the bionic arm targeted towards her, and tripped him, sending him to the ground.

Easy…too easy.

She rolled his body over, expecting the legendary Big Boss to be knocked out, on the ground, defeated.

But the man on the ground was not Big Boss. He didn't even remotely look like him, it was just one of the elite soldiers. Apparently, he came to, because he almost stuck the needle into her leg. She responded by bringing her leg up and slamming it down on his throat, crushing his esophagus.

Before she knew it, more bullets/darts rattled across the ground around her. She looked back for a split second to see her attackers. They were not the elite soldiers, she thought she saw Snake at one spot, and then at a completely different spot.

She blinked through blurry slow-motion vision (black butterfly) and realized that her attackers were….. Snake. Every soldier was Snake, targeting her with rubber bullets and tranq. darts. This couldn't be real, and if it were, was this the Boss' plan? Was this what he wanted? She just kept firing, denying what was in front of her. Her chest hurt like all hell, but she kept firing, taking one or two Snakes out right then.

She was brought back to the real world as a frenzy of tranq. darts hit her body. She was definitely feeling woozy now, if not drowsy. Firing another shot, she realized that it was pointless, she would be out cold in minutes even if she got away in time.

She felt anger burning inside along the pain, anger at the circumstances, anger at the strategic deadlock, and ultimately, anger at defeat. She screamed.

"SSSSSSSSNNNNNNNNNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKKKKKKKKKKKEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Another fury of tranq. rounds hit her, making her kneel to the ground and topple over on the verge of unconsciousness.

There were no multiple Big Bosses, there were just the elite soldiers she had originally seen at the start of all this. Just a product of either a hallucinogenic agent or her imagination.

Before she began to lose consciousness, she heard a radio conversation as the unit approached her.

"Sir, we have the target. She took out almost half my men."

"Sir, I-. Yes, sir."

"Back to base? Are you sure, sir?"

"Roger that."

He put the radio away. "Bag her."

She felt a sharp prick in her neck as the pain in her chest flared up and she slowly lost consciousness.


	4. Chapter 4

Wheels squeaking.

That's what roused her. The sound of wheels squeaking.

Opening her eyes drowsily, she noticed burlap filling her entire field of vision. Her hearing focused on the wheels squeaking on the wheelchair she was tied to.

She was being moved somewhere. Using her senses, she tried to pinpoint her location. But she heard silence. Nothing else but silence and squeaky wheels.

The chair stopped and turned into a room. The person guiding the chair stopped her in the middle of the room. She kept expecting a gun hammer to click behind her. She should've known she wasn't that lucky.

The burlap sack was forcefully removed from her head by a guard with a gas mask, who then stood still against the wall. Her eyes squinted at the bright light. There were guards on two walls in front of her, armed with automatic weapons and gas masks, staring straight ahead. The room was completely blank, except for an extremely long metal table. She looked down and accidentally saw her own reflection.

She was horrified at what she saw. Her hair was messy, oily, unkempt. Her nostrils had dried blood trails leading all down her face. Little scars and cuts were opened and some looked like they were beginning to get infected. She had bags under her bloodshot eyes and her lips were dry and chapped, with an accumulative amount of dried blood around her mouth and down her chin. At least she didn't feel any pain in her chest at the moment. She looked even further down, she was almost completely naked except for a bra and panties.

"You've looked better."

She raised her head towards the voice in the darkness. The voice belonged to a man's silhouette sitting in a chair. She didn't like the fact that someone was getting a free view of her semi-naked body. It wasn't the military scientist, though. She would've recognized his voice. She could barely see him past the light, but his voice was more authoritative. An interrogation.

"I guess artificial light isn't very effective, is it?"

She just stared at him, not knowing what to make of this man. Menacing or sarcastic?

"Still difficult to understand your condition. Even after all this time."

All this time? She broke her gaze and began looking around the room trying t figure out what he meant. But, ultimately, her gaze turned back to him.

"No one told you?"

She tried to decide what to do. She wouldn't give any information up, but maybe if they were looking for something, she could see where/when she was.

She slowly shook her head from side to side. "Really? Good." He paused for a moment. "You know you are free to speak whenever you want."

She really didn't know what to make of him now. Whatever might be true and what might be someone else's convenient bullshit was up for speculation. Even if she spoke English, she could barely see the glass on the gas mask.

Might as well. "So you say." Her voice was a lot more groggy and scratchy than when she last spoke.

"Finally, I was beginning to think they had clipped your vocal cords."

Was that supposed to be a pun? "Pun?" she asked.

"Nothing close to it."

He leaned forward in his chair. "You possess something I value greatly. I'd like to get my hands on it."

She glared darkly in his direction. "You or any one of them lays a finger on me, I'll-."

He was smirking. Why was he smirking? "What's so funny?" she asked darkly.

"I should've worded my explanation better. That's not what I want from you."

At least THAT was somewhat comforting. But if that wasn't what they were after, what were they…?

She sighed. "What DO you want?"

The man took a moment to pause and sit upright in his chair. "I firmly believe that information is an almost priceless commodity. Information as a whole, that is."

She knew what he was getting at. She would've preferred the less passive-aggressive way to get the information out of her, but she would probably still be complaining if it was direct interrogation.

She began defiantly. "Anything on Diamond Dogs. On Big Boss,…his base,….his motives…."

She took a long pause. "You won't get that from me."

The man scoffed. "I could give two shits about Big Boss. I know about your time with Diamond Dogs, with the Boss. That, also, is not what I want."

Now she was lost. If it wasn't easy sex, or Diamond Dogs, or Big Boss, what other information did he think she had besides-. But, why would they question her about the parasites if they already had completed research on them?

She was quiet for a while. "I'm lost," she admitted.

"This might be a rough road, but…Cipher."

 _Of course,_ she sighed and started chuckling.

"XOF to be more precise."

She stopped chuckling for the moment. "What about them?"

The man stared for a few moments, and took out a file. "According to your file, you were…..quite good. An understatement, obviously."

He skimmed through the file. "Your career record was ultimately outstanding. UN treated you well, didn't they?"

She flinched at the mention of the UN. "Did you even see your own records?"

She honestly never had. She felt she didn't need to as long as she followed orders and did what she was supposed to, everyone would leave her alone.

"I'm surprised Big Boss didn't take notice of your skill set earlier, as young as you started out."

She remembered being briefed about Big Boss. In retrospect, every piece of information she was given was bullshit, filtered by a corrupt organization FOR a corrupt organization.

"But, your former CO got to you first. How'd he recruit you?"

She didn't like going back into the past, but at least he admitted that this was a rocky road. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" "I. Don't. Know!"

The man stopped for a second, giving her time to calm back down. "From what it says here, someone at UN put in a good word for you with the Major."

Her head and eyebrows raised up at the mention of the Major. "The Major?"

"You've heard of him? In fact, he was the one that had you personally relocated to XOF."

This was all new to her. She thought she had just gotten lucky, for lack of a better word. "The Major did that?"

"He was very trustworthy of his right-hand man. I believe he was known as Skull Face, was he not?"

She almost cringed at the mention of the man. "Yeah,….him."

He skimmed over a page or two. "If this is all new to you, you should know that he almost chose you as a candidate for infiltrating MSF."

She clinched her eyebrows together. Why did MSF sound so familiar? Wait, wasn't that…it was Snake's old organization. She remembered….she remembered being there. One of her first missions…..

She quickly brushed the memory away.

"Instead, he chose another. Her name was Paz Ortega Andrade."

She? The name didn't sound familiar.

"I'm gonna cut to the chase. One of your first missions for XOF, a solo mission, you were contacted directly by the Major."

She didn't like to think about her first missions, it started getting in the way of her performance when she did think about them.

She gave him a few moments before she responded sarcastically. "That's going back an awfully long way."

"Really? Maybe we should jog your memory. 1974. Luxembourg."

Luxembourg? Did she have a mission in Luxembourg? It didn't matter. She had something they wanted, maybe she could get some basic information.

"I might be able to remember that…." she offered.

"But?" "I just want something relatively harmless from you."

The man fell silent for a few moments and made up his mind. "Alright, I'll bite."

She had a lot of questions that needed answering, but she tried her best to think of questions that didn't give a hint of weakness.

"Tell me how long I've been here, I'll tell you about Luxembourg."

The man seemed surprised. "That's it?" He thought it over. "Fair enough."

He was interrupted by the door opening and a young guard came in and saluted the man. "I apologize for disturbing you, sir, but I was told that this was an urgent delivery for you," the guard said in the weird language, handing the man a file she assumed was confidential.

Too young to be of any danger. How the hell did he get to where he is now? Did he even know where he was?

The man took the file. "Hold that thought," he said to her. He began casually reading over the file.

An idiot could see that the door was unlocked from here. She didn't care how weak she felt. There were guards on either wall of the room, but that was a risk she was prepared to take. She wouldn't get any answers tied to a wheelchair.

She waited a few more minutes as he read over the file.

"Well, this is interesting."

Now was as good a time as ever.

She cloaked and began to phase through the restraints, but she had clearly underestimated how weak she was. She had barely phased through the restraints before she was completely exhausted. Her vision started to blur, and her ears began ringing so horribly that she worried that she had tinnitus. She stopped and uncloaked, still in the wheelchair.

She could barely hear over her own ears ringing. But, the guards had sure as hell noticed her Houdini impersonation attempt. Their guns pointed straight at her, ready to fire. She would've tried to phase through again, if she didn't feel a large trickle of blood coming out of her nose. That, and if she could've felt her left hand from the get-go.

Her ears were still ringing, so she opened her jaw to clear it up. She could only hear faint traces of dialogue from someone in the room. Whether it was the guards or the man, she couldn't tell but one of the men stepped out the door for something.

"-interesting development."

She stared straight at him. She had fucked up, and she knew it.

"I guess, maybe you're not as good as they say."

She had found some energy and tried to phase through the restraints to sucker punch him, failing a second time.

She looked down at the restraints again. What surprised her wasn't that they were made of some unknown material, it was the exact opposite. It was duct tape and rope holding her down. She looked down at the gray-blue pustules on her chest. They had grown slightly and the pain was coming back. How weak was she? She felt sick.

"That was ballsy, I'll give you credit for that. I'm gonna give you one more chance." He stood up and walked to behind where the guards were. "What did the Major contact you about in Luxembourg?"

She vomited all over the floor. Blood more than anything. Some of the guards even backed away, disgusted.

She was leaning over the left arm of the wheelchair, losing consciousness fast.

"Answer the question," he said, unfazed.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

( **So, this is technically still Chapter 4. But consider it Chapter 4.5)**

She was leaning over the arm of the wheelchair, losing consciousness fast.

"Answer the question," he said, unfazed.

She was struggling to catch her breath and regain some energy, but she was still slumped over the arm of the wheelchair, breathing hard.

An hour seemed to pass before he said, "Still nothing to say?" The guards were still as firmly placed as ever, guns ready. She didn't even make an attempt to respond at the moment.

He waited another minute. "Goddammit. Let me know when she wakes up," he announced.

The young guard had come back just as he got up out of his chair, and she could faintly hear the chorus of Billy Idol's "Rebel Yell." She had just now noticed how much of an extremely muscular build the man had, but his face was still obscured through semi-blurred vision.

"Do as you will,….that's an order," he said.

He was at the door when she started chuckling, then laughing. Everything was so clear to her now.

It was now his turn to ask. "What's so funny?" She kept laughing, coughing occasionally. "You were wrong." A little more laid-back laughter this time. "I can't tell how wrong you might be, but you got that wrong."

She had grabbed his interest, staring at her intently. She heaved herself off the arm of the wheelchair into a crude sitting position, mildly chuckling. "It wasn't Luxembourg." He let out a low growl of disappointment, and left. Still didn't get a look at his face.

She still chuckled for a little while longer until her eyes caught the soldiers beginning to eye the puddle of blood and vomit at the base of her chair.

"That, gentleman, is a boner-killer," said one of the guards. "Shut the fuck up," said another.

Why the sudden significance about the Major? She had heard rumors that he had died years ago, at least that's what Skull Face said by proxy.

Her left hand still remained unfeeling. Maybe because she had essentially fallen asleep on it.

"Kid, give me the needle," one of the guards commanded, holding his arm back to the young guard. He seemed more than happy to hand over control to the other guard.

"I thought the Major was dead." "Just don't ask questions, and don't say anything about this."

One of the guards started walking towards her with the needle. She was almost sure she was developing a pathological hate for needles at this point.

She struggled as much as she could, trying to phase through the restraints one last time. But he just kept getting closer.

"I don't want to have to do anything bad, just let me do my job," he said, standing right in front of her.

"Don't even think about it," she muttered, staring darkly at the guard walking towards her.

"That's not up to you," he said, not giving her a second thought. He knelt down to put the needle in her neck.

"Wrong," she replied.

Quick thinking was her savior. She head-butted him and used her mouth, clamping him by his neck, and pulling him forward. He was screaming in pain and trying to get her to let go as the guards screamed for him to be let go. Even the youngest one had his gun raised at her. "Let him go! NOW!"

She did as they wished and let him go…rather violently. He pulled back hard, but her teeth were stronger. His neck practically exploded, blood and flesh scattering everywhere, some stuck between her teeth. She had bitten the jugular, the most necessary artery in the human body.

Everything moved in slow-motion, the guard falling backwards, already caked in his own blood, the other guards appalled and too shocked to be reflexive, and the blood spurting and landing on her. Blood, she admitted, was not a preferable pick-me-up. Blood was mostly iron and oxygen, with a certain percentage of water. Even a soldier like herself had to have some scholastic abilities, right?

Blood spilled onto her face, chest, and arms. Rejuvenation, for lack of a better word, came to her in an immediate, fleeting manner. But that second was all she needed. The butterfly appeared on her eyes, and she phased through the restraints, cloaking in the process.

The guards shot a stream of bullets in her direction, riddling the wheelchair with bullets. Milliseconds later, she appeared holding the young guard's knife to his neck with his assault rifle in her other hand. She emptied the magazine into the remaining guards before they could react.

Everything returned to normal time. The wall adjacent herself and her hostage was riddled with bullets and blood. She heard her hostage whimper. It was out of fear. She could sense it. It was almost pleasurable, knowing that someone feared her. He was trying to form words despite the knife at his throat. She eased tension on the knife, and dropped the empty gun. "Speak."

"A-ar-a-are you going to kill me?" he stuttered, afraid of the answer he would receive. She pushed him forward to where he was facing her, meeting his own sidearm. His eyes were filled with fear and uncertainty. She saw what he was afraid of, it was reflecting back at her in his gas mask. She realized, she must be terrifying to look at face-to-face. It was pitiful, looking at him. He wasn't a weakling, but he was not a soldier, either. She took a few steps toward him, sidearm not wavering.

She had made up her mind. "No." She pistol-whipped him over the head, knocking him out cold. She didn't stay to reflect on the bloodbath she had caused. She left the room, being extra aware of her surroundings. She was in a huge concrete hallway, very well lit, and wide enough to store certain materials.

She sensed footsteps coming toward her. Fast, tough, and a lot of them. She found the nearest place to hide just as the footsteps stopped at the door she came out of.

"Jesus H. Christ! CP, this is Tango 2, request backup to interrogation room 7!"

"This is CP. State your reason, Tango 2."

"I can't find the words…it…it's….it's a fucking bloody massacre. Tixij has escaped! I say again, Tixij has escaped!"

"Ah, fuck! Tango 2, this is CP. All units on enemy alert. Do not kill the subject! I repeat, Do. Not. Kill. The subject!"

"Roger that, CP!"

She knew she'd have to move. She cloaked and crept silently down the hall in the opposite direction of where the guards were. The sirens suddenly went off, almost startling her. Almost.

She was almost past the corner of the hallway, until her ears caught a significant drip or two. She knew instantly where that might be coming from. She took shelter behind some conveniently-placed crates, and uncloaked. Just as she had suspected, she could make out two bullet wounds in her right arm and near her "appendix," with blood slowly trickling out.

 _If it's not one thing, it's a fucking other thing,_ she thought.

She trekked out beyond the crates trying to find her way through the hallways, bleeding all along the way. She found some bandages that would do some good, but that would only buy her time. She noticed that there was a slight, but faintly noticeable blood trail. On top of that, she had no idea where she was going, and the more she trekked through the hallways, the more lost she felt.

Every hallway looked the same, making it hard to keep track of where she'd been exactly. She retraced her steps for hours, evading patrols however she could. Her bandages weren't doing well, more blood was beginning to seep through the bullet wounds and the pain from the pustules in her chest wasn't helping.

All she could was hope for a chance at freedom, a way out, or something close to a miracle.

It had been four hours, and she still couldn't find her way out.

Her bandages were soaked in blood, and small trickles of blood on the floor were becoming more frequent, and her pustules began secreting a clear, sticky fluid. She was surprised no one was following or had noticed the trail yet.

She was delirious and becoming disoriented from the pain and lack of blood. She almost forgot to cloak when a patrol passed by. Barely missing them in time, she crept along until they were out of her way. The sirens had thankfully stopped, her ears couldn't take anymore. She had suddenly realized she jinxed herself when she slipped on her blood, alerting one of the soldiers nearby.

"Hm?" The soldier stood there speculating about what he was seeing. Cloaked, she hoped he would pass it off as something ordinary.

He began moving toward her slowly, focusing on the clearish-red streak on the floor. She tried to think of something, anything. If he realized why there was blood there, she was screwed. As he knelt down to inspect it, she snuck up behind him as he began to yell out. She knew he was going to find that blood.

She had her sidearm pressed against his temple, moving him towards the supply closet. Once the door was closed, he responded with, "Sooner or later, they'll notice I'm gone." Afrikaans. South African, to be more precise. She was glad she had paid attention to Snake's interpreter on their missions in Africa.

"Don't worry, you won't vanish completely," she responded in almost fluent Afrikaans. "Where's the infirmary?"

He chuckled, "I can't tell you that." She felt suspicious. "And why not?"

"Sorry, love, but if you get away, my CO will have my arse."

"You'll have to make an exception." She pressed the pistol harder against his temple.

"So those are my options?" "Seems like it, that's up to you."

"With that in mind,….I choose Option C." He knocked her gun away, but saw his knife coming and blocked that. CQC was incredibly effective, she had to give the inventor of it that. But, they had put each other in one clusterfuck of a knife fight. Her hand was on his throat, to keep him from screaming out, but he had his knife sticking close to her abdomen, her other hand blocking that.

She heard other soldiers outside. "Where'd Dawson go?" "Fuck if I know."

'Dawson' tried yelling out, but she had a death grip on his vocal cords. She just had to wait for him to relent or pass out from lack of oxygen. But, losing blood was not giving her an advantage at all. She had to use every ounce of strength she had to keep his knife away.

She could feel her strength failing her, the knife slowly moving closer. His face, although red, showed fury and determination to be the one that made it out. She would make sure he would lose. With quick movements, she swiftly head-butted him, knocking him off-guard. She took that opportunity to take his knife. She did, and pushed it through his throat.

The knife was damn-near sticking through his spine, but he knew he was dead. She, somehow, found herself feeling sorry for him. She had done what was necessary to survive, but if she had kept moving, this wouldn't have happened. She had won fairly, but it was a short, cruel losing streak he had to endure. So she moved the knife sideways, putting him out of his misery. She didn't dare take the knife out of his throat.

She heard footsteps and cloaked the second another soldier opened the door. His dead comrade startled him, and he yelled for support. She was long gone by then, applying new bandages to her wounds.

Time. That's the only thing she couldn't afford to pay attention to right now.

She had lost track of time. She didn't even know if there was a way out, or if this was all a sick dream. She just had to keep pushing on. Wooziness was setting in, but she shook it off. Blood was a precious resource she was running out of.

Patrols she had seen had upgraded their arsenal. She assumed they had done that since 'Dawson' or whatever his name was. Most were equipped with thermal goggles, making it a lot harder to creep by.

Supply closets, offices, labs, that's all there were. Guards and scientists were the only ones inhabiting the hallways. She hadn't seen any other cells in this place. Was this whole place just for her? She pushed that thought away, she couldn't think about that now.

Desperation was setting in. She knew her body would give up for her, but not before she would find a clue as to how to get out.

She heard a door open in front of her. A scientist was walking out, a middle-aged man probably changing shifts. This was as close to hope as she was going to get. Realizing she didn't have her gun, or a knife, she snuck up behind him. She covered his mouth so he couldn't scream. He stopped, either frozen with fear or understanding that she needed help.

She made sure he understood that if he yelled, she would snap his neck, taking her hand off his mouth. "Language?" she asked, groggily. "P-p-please don't hurt me," he pleaded in Russian.

Russian? How convenient. "Alright, I won't hurt you." She turned him around to face her. "But I do need your help." He began to back away, staring at the atrocities that afflicted her body. "Just don't speak English. You'll be fine."

"I'm sorry, I can't help you." He hurriedly tried to get back in the office. This is not what she wanted to hear. She stopped him. "I can't take that for an answer."

"Even if I wanted to I couldn't. I won't tell anyone you were here, just please me be."

"Doctor, please, I just need to locate an infirmary or medical supplies."

"As I've stated before, I can't help you." She caught the door before he closed it in her face.

"Please, just point me in the right direction!"

"I can't!"

She was feeling progressively faint. She pleaded, "Sir, please,….I'm malnourished,…I haven't had any food….or water…in….a long time…that…that….and these things on my chest…I'm dying….and I'm losing blood…." She passed out on the floor right in front of him, blood slowly collecting underneath her.

He now truly noticed what she meant, taking a good look at her ailments. The dried blood around her mouth, the cuts and lesions, the gray-bluish/purple pustules and the two bullet wounds, not to mention that she looked like she had barely anything on her bones, she looked too skinny. "Jesus," he muttered, horrified.

He could hear a patrol coming. He would hate himself for doing this. He closed the door and tried to make it look like he was innocent.

The patrol had found her, obviously. He heard them use call-outs to notify they had found her. He pretended to look innocent as two soldiers opened the door and ordered him outside. "Doctor, we're here to make sure you're alright. You have to come with us. Just following orders." It would look suspicious if he declined, so he willingly went with them, trying to act surprised at the sick, bleeding woman on the floor.

"What about her?" he asked, genuinely concerned. The soldier responded, "That's none of your concern, sir."

They finally let him go after they got the woman some serious medical treatment, supposedly.

They had asked him a few questions. If he had encountered her, given her anything, or if he was genuinely surprised to see a severely injured woman outside his door. He passed with flying colors, and left as soon as he could.

He had acted out of fear, that had saved his life. But, he couldn't ignore the fact that she needed help. He couldn't help her, no one could. Especially at this place. He knew they had no intention of helping her. Typical politics and bureaucracy.

But, there might be one person who could help…

He had risked everything: his reputation, his career, and his life to get the information he now possessed. He had established a secure line, he just had to make sure HE was ready. There was a good chance that very powerful people would come after him for what he was about to do. Was he really ready to accept those risks?

He answered his own question by picking up the phone and dialed a number that very few people possessed.

"Hello, yes, I would like to speak to your commanding officer."

"May I ask who's calling?"

"A client with a job offer, who needs it done."

There was a long pause. "Call back when you're ready to specify, sir."

"Wait, wait, wait!" I'll pay everything I have. At least 3,000,000 rubles."

There was a small, but reflective pause on the other line.

"What do you need done, sir?"

"First, I would like to personally speak with your Boss…."


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry that this took so long. I was dealing with a huge amount of writer's block and my Internet's been down for three months, and I was preparing for finals. This isn't exactly a step-up in quality, but it was the best I could do. I'll try to work on this more over the summer if I have time. R &R and enjoy.**

Sleep.

Glorious, intoxicating sleep.

She was enveloped by that warm, tired feeling that came with sleep. And she had also gotten used to the possibility that something bad might happen if and when she woke up.

With her eyes closed, she sensed the sun on her skin, with barely any wind. She still refused to open her eyes, expecting the butt of a rifle to wake her up instead, or a bucket of scalding hot water. She didn't want to see what awaited her upon waking up. All she wanted was a few more minutes of sleep.

But she knew she would eventually have to open her eyes. She couldn't sense any distinguishable heat signatures, and the surface she was on seemed to teeter back and forth. That and the overwhelming smell of salt water.

 _Wait, SALT WATER?!_

Her eyes instantly jolted open. Upon opening her eyes, she had to immediately squint just to adjust to the glaring sunlight.

Focusing her eyes as best she could, she managed to take in what little surroundings there were.

It was hot and humid.

She was in the middle of an ocean.

Filled with nothing but salt water.

And she was on a relatively big yacht, near a small sandbar.

She scanned for anything on the horizon, only to find nothing. _Perfect, just perfect._

She began to look inside the boat's compartments, finding what might have been a sail. It wasn't much of one if it was a sail. There were holes in a few places, it was tattered and beginning to fray, and the fabric was getting real thin.

With that, she began to look inside the boat's interior. Inside, she found a hammock in surprisingly good condition, a small, primitive kitchen area, cabinets containing pots and pans, rope, a hammer, nails, a first aid kit, and a full set of matches.

 _Ok, this isn't that bad. I can work with this…._

She ventured back out onto the deck of the boat, and began to grasp her current situation.

 _So, this is what it feels like to be marooned on an island._

The sun was beating down on her, and the humid air was not helping. She swore her skin was beginning to get irritated from the air. It was starting to turn splotchy in some places. She let out a huge sigh, able to do nothing except contemplate. Her eyes began to trail from the irritated splotches on her skin to the rest of her body.

What she saw surprised her a great deal. She was skinny, she could see her rib cage faintly. She didn't see any drastic mutations or third arms growing or any gangrene spots, but when she looked down at her chest…..

The parasites, the blue-gray pustules that were manifesting on her chest…They….they were gone, vanished. Like they weren't even there.

She poked and prodded the area where the bumps used to be, not ready to believe that they were gone just yet. She stayed that way for a long while.

A small, but sharp glint of sunlight hit her right in the eye, blinding her for the moment. She saw where the glint had come from. It had reflected off of something metallic, lodged in the sandbar about fifty to eighty meters away. She looked at the location on the sandbar and down at the boat, considering going ashore to inspect what it was.

Deciding that she had nothing better to do, she jumped onto the sandbar. The boat, as it turned out, was conveniently anchored almost right next to the sandbar, providing some ease of transport from the boat to the patch of land.

Her feet hit the sand. She looked around before walking any further. This place kind of reminded her of Afghanistan. She pushed those memories away before anything else happened. She started walking towards that glint in the sand.

The object was a barrel, a gun barrel, sticking right out of the ground. She knew that it was a sniper rifle, the barrel was too long to be anything else. She grasped the barrel and tried pulling it out of the sand, but she was met with an impressive amount of resistance. She pulled harder, trying her strength each time.

A few tries later, the gun's stock was exposed. She pulled with all her strength that she could muster, and the rifle burst out of the sand, almost knocking her over. It was a gun similar to hers, the "Butterfly."

The gun was impossibly pristine, and in almost excellent condition. She began to turn back around towards the boat when a disturbing sight caught her eye.

A hand was sticking out of the ground. It had been clutching the gun. The hand was burnt to a crisp, just sticking out in the sun, skin peeling away to show bone underneath. She dreaded to think of what might have happened there.

She forced herself to start walking back to the boat. She didn't dare look back.

(-)

She hadn't forgotten the fact that she needed water.

She had always managed to keep some in her pouch on missions in dry areas like Afghanistan. But, she had encountered two problems.

One, she had no water at the moment. And two, any water that was available was laced with salt.

She had searched the boat from top to bottom and couldn't find anything that could even pass for water. _Hell, I'll even take tap water,_ she thought.

She had to find a way to get freshwater, or risk dying of thirst. _How ironic, dying of thirst in the middle of the ocean. Embarrassing,_ she chuckled. She was beginning to weaken and fatigue. Her energy was draining more and more with every passing day without water. Her skin was beginning to turn a slightly darker color.

It suddenly hit her with the sun beaming down on her.

 _Time to go to work._

(-)

 _Attach it there. Just a bit more that way, and…done!_

This was the fruit of her efforts. Sure, it had taken a few hours to get it right, but it was still pretty damn impressive.

She had used various appliances found on the boat to rig something together. Her "water source," so to speak. She had used a lot of the pots and pans with lids facing with handles downward, and a cup to put in the pot. This was something she had learned at XOF. She just never had the tools to use it, even in her condition.

The last thing she needed now was a fire. Not a big one, but big enough to boil water. She could use the matches, but there were only a few. And what if one of them or all of them broke trying to get a flame going? She could use the box, but where would she keep the matches? She sure as hell wasn't stripping the boat for firewood.

What could she use? _Think. Think!_

She slowly grew aware of what she had to do. The more she thought about it, the more she didn't like thinking about it.

(-)

 _Nggghhh! Nnggghhh!_ She stopped for a moment to catch her breath.

She didn't feel the strength that she had possessed before. She didn't even look as strong anymore. She cpuld've done this in a lot less time than it was taking her with full strength.

 _NNNGGGGHHHHH!_

With one last burst of strength, she pulled the corpse out of the ground, sand erupting into the air.

 _And to the campfire we go_ , she thought mockingly.

She didn't get a good look at the body until she got back to the campsite. The sight was more disturbing than she was expecting.

The entire corpse was burnt to a crisp. The face wasn't even recognizable, the arms and legs were leathery, and the skin was peeling off in repulsive ways. The corpse itself was wearing a tactical vest, combat boots, and gray cargo pants. The whole outfit was melted through, grafted almost completely into the skin. Bones were showing off their pristine cleanse in certain points in the outfit.

This felt very familiar. Too familiar. Her head began to hurt. It did worse than hurt, it was excruciating. Her head began to radiate with pain. She groaned, putting her fingers to her temples.

 _This has to be intentional_ , she thought. _Some sick symbolism._

The pain was so intense that she was on the verge of screaming. She eventually passed out from the accumulative amount of pain.

She didn't feel the pain go away until she woke up the next morning.

(-)

A yawn escaped her mouth.

She wasn't surprised that she was tired. She'd been operating at maximum efficiency for the last few days. Insomnia was the only thing keeping her from sleeping.

She had to keep going. She couldn't stop, not until her objective was finished.

She had been producing freshwater out of the "water distiller" she had rigged up. There was barely any more room left for freshwater in the interior of the boat. It had filtered the bulk of the salt out of the water, but it still stung a little when she needed the nourishment.

She didn't like the fact that she had used some of that body to get the fire going. She just kept telling herself that she had done worse than that, but it sure didn't feel like it.

The headaches kept her awake most of the time. She couldn't figure out which thoughts triggered them, but they didn't waver for a long time. They felt like tiny hangovers all over the surface of her brain.

The closets, cabinets, anything that could be used for storage was packed with filtered freshwater receptacles. Her plan was to make it to the nearest shore, and make another plan from there. If she didn't find any, she was fine dying knowing she had tried and done something instead of accepting her fate.

She bolted and tied down everything that moved, even the cabinets. She then pushed the boat out to sea, making sure she was on it.

Satisfied with her efforts, she sat down and hung her legs over the side of the boat, staring at the sandbar.

The lonely sandbar. She didn't have any recollection of how many days she'd spent there. Maybe weeks. The body, or what was left of the remains, was scarcely visible from her viewpoint. It was strange, but she felt like she was saying goodbye to the corpse.

Not planning to stick around any longer, she began pulling the makeshift anchor aboard, checked the cabinets again, and finally let the sail fly in the direction she-

 _Wait? The sail?_

She looked at the sail. Tattered, frayed in some spots, but still seaworthy. She didn't remember making a sail.

She turned to look back at the sandbar, and was not ready for what she saw. There was nothing but ocean in her vision. The little island had vanished, like it had never been there.

She blinked, rubbing her eyes, hoping lack of rest and exhaustion were making her hallucinate. Unfortunately, she wasn't seeing things. The sandbar was gone.

 _But, how did the sail-? No, no, no! Don't think about it_ , she thought, taking a deep "breath." She pushed those thoughts out of her mind.

She sailed onward, into the approaching night.

(-)

( **"Creep," by Karen Souza, from The Zero Theorem, starts playing.)**

She was met with a beautiful sunrise. She woke up to it staring her in the face.

With a slight smile, she heaved up and exited the boat's interior. The sun was so magnificent, rising up like that. She got ready to start absorbing its rays, feeling hungry anyways.

She felt instinct at that moment. Instinct that everything was going to be alright.

(-)

The current was steady. Not one sense of wind in any direction.

No waves, no clouds, and the sun was shining high in the sky.

She took advantage of this opportunity to try and regain some strength. She lowered the sail, and began to do pull-ups. The sun provided her with the energy she needed while she exercised, killing two birds with one stone.

She didn't stop until the sun was headed westward, covered by dark clouds, moving ominously in the distance.

(-)

The boat was being rocked back and forth by the gigantically threatening waves.

Salt water splashed up and around the rim of the boat. She had risked her safety going out on the boat in the middle of a storm, trying to secure everything on the exterior of the boat.

The salt water splashing up and around began brushing her skin, sending burning and stinging sensations through her body. She ignored them with every ounce of energy she had.

Rain was pouring down, cleansing her of the stinging sensations, somewhat. She was grateful for that, and after a few seconds of rejuvenation, began to get back to work.

The ocean and the storm were beginning to get progressively violent. It was angry, sending waves of salt water aboard the boat. The burning sensations became more frequent as the salt made contact with her skin. It began to alleviate just as quickly as fresh rainwater poured down onto her, becoming her lucky charm.

The sail was flapping in the wind. More holes would appear in the dense fabric if she didn't get it down now. She made her way to the sail, enduring the ferocious wind and burning salt water. The ropes were stretched tight, barely able to budge through the sheer force of the wind. But her superhuman strength had been returning the more she exercised, giving her the upper hand.

With a tough challenge, she managed to tuck the sail safely away and pry open the doors to the interior of the boat. Two steps away from entering, a bright yellow light glinted off the windows, catching her eye.

 _A lighthouse?_ She hoped it was. She made her way back out to the front of the boat. That familiar burning sensation returned, followed by the sense of relief. Salt water was splashing more and more frantically aboard the boat. The burning sensations went away less and less with each splash.

The light shone through again on its revolution in her direction. She almost cracked a smile, not caring about or noticing the salt water accumulating on the deck of the boat. She could barely see a tower in the distance, but forgot to watch the huge wave that crashed into the boat, knocking her backwards in an almost straight line.

 **(Pause "Creep.")**

Somehow, she ended up in the boat's interior. She felt the burning sensations one-hundred-fold what they were all over her body. A mix of rainwater and saltwater flooded the floor of the boat's interior, burning every inch of her. She couldn't do anything but scream. With whatever control she had left, she kicked the doors closed.

This was a sadistic reminder, not that she needed one, of her irreversible condition. She screamed and screamed in pain, feeling every part of her begin to dry out. With haste, she unbolted a small lock on a crawlspace in the floor. She reached in for a freshwater jar.

A sudden jolt, compliments of Mother Nature, launched almost all the water jars and herself to the other side of the interior, smashing all of the jars and sending broken glass. A more violent jolt and a flash of lightning and thunder threw her across to the other side of the kitchen and onto tiny, sharp pieces of glass. She couldn't decide which pain she felt more, the saltwater drying out the very things keeping her alive, or the sharp glass embedded deep in her skin. She couldn't help but scream and crawl towards one remaining jar of freshwater left, somehow intact.

She was on fire, not literally, but it damn sure felt like it. The glass on the floor and the shifting gravity didn't help. Putting her hands in front of each other didn't accomplish much except to show how much glass was accumulating in her hands.

She closed her eyes, trying to resist the pain. But each time she blinked, she felt like there was this overwhelming sense of déjà vu.

Blink…Glass all over the floor of the boat.

Blink…A hospital room.

Blink…Crawling towards an intact jar of freshwater.

Blink….Glass embedded in her arms.

Blink….Bloody glass embedded in her arms.

Blink…..A burning sensation…fire.

Blink…..A deep, burning sensation.

Blink…Her arms were on fire. Crawling. Standing, no, walking forward. Something sharp and liquid broke on her skin, and the fire raged and feasted on her skin. She screamed like she had never screamed before, her sights held on two men. One had bandages, and one had a sort of horn sticking out of his head. They just stared, didn't even stand to help. All they did was watch her be engulfed by flames. Screaming….bleeding….angry….dying.

Blink….She screamed louder than she thought possible, grabbed the jar and frantically opened it, pouring the contents all over her body. Relief instantly flooded her senses. Grasping the cabinets, she heaved herself onto a hammock suspended above the floor.

She hadn't noticed before she got into the hammock, but she was breathing heavily. She was breathing, but she wasn't breathing in any air. Her lungs had no more use. It was stress-breathing, trying to calm herself down.

That pain, she had felt it before. Pain. Her old friend. The one thing that had stayed with her longer than anyone or anything. She began crying, not caring how much the salt burned her face. That anger was there, too. Amidst the pain and remorse, that anger was the gasoline on the fire.

She fell asleep, listening to the sounds of the storm outside.

Tossing, turning, angry.

Breathing, but not breathing any air.

 **("Creep" begins playing again.)**

(-)

A small breeze whistled in from the distant north.

It didn't do much to help. She was still picking glass out of her body, trying her best not to disturb the incredibly sensitive burns. She was extremely lucky that time.

She was in the process of digging glass out of her scalp and chest, both matted with dried blood, with a pair of tweezers. The boat was in surprisingly better condition than she thought it would be in. The sail was just as tattered as it was before the storm, but aside from that there was no other damage.

She didn't have a clue where she or anywhere else was. The sandbar would've suggested somewhere around the Caribbean or Pacific Ocean, but she had been sailing for…she had no idea where she had been sailing or how long she had been sailing for. She had been going forward, hoping she would find land anywhere and anytime. But, she didn't take into account how much time had passed.

 _Ow, shit!_

She had accidentally pulled a bit of her scalp out with the tweezers. At this rate, her scalp would be mangled. She used her other hand to feel for the small shard, and finally removed it.

She threw it overboard, a glint catching her eye. There was wood and sheet metal floating on a chunk of fiberglass. She reached out and began to pull it piece by piece aboard the ship.

She noticed more and more junk like what she had salvaged creeping alongside the boat. She noticed that this wood was sturdy enough and the sheet metal was thick enough to use for something. That fiberglass, she was sure, she could find a use for.

(-)

There was no shortage of wood or sheet metal.

With that and a hammer, she initially didn't think she would accomplish this.

She had managed to add on to the boat. She wasn't a carpenter, nor had she any knowledge of construction, but she did ace all her geometry courses when she was first recruited.

She knew she could use all this material for something. But what was that something?

She knew exactly what she was going to do. The concept was simple but brilliant.

She was going to better the boat, however she could.

(-)

She split open the guts to one of the fish she had speared. She was extremely thankful she couldn't smell anymore.

She let the oils of the fish drain out into a bucket and then tossed the fish overboard.

She almost regretted adding another deck to the ship. Almost. The boat had been renovated and improved masterfully. There were two decks now, two bigger sails, a legitimate wheel, a crow's nest, and a masthead that was almost completely finished.

The work she did for that also restored her strength. The muscles in her back and arms were bigger, more prominent. Her abs glinted in the sunlight and her calf muscles had regained their original strength and mass, too.

Feeling satisfied with her work for the day, she retreated into the interior to get a glass of whatever she felt like.

The interior was significantly more complex than the original. It wasn't small and cramped anymore, it was relatively spacious. The hammock was still there, just because she was more accustomed to it at this point. She grabbed a ¾ full bottle of 20-year-old Scotch she had salvaged. She knew she couldn't drink alcohol, at least not orally, but she still went with that as her choice of drink.

Making her way up the crow's nest was a hastle with a glass of Scotch in one hand. Finally reaching the nest, she rested her elbows on the railing. The sun had just begun to set.

Captivated by the sunset, she poured some Scotch on her shoulder. The warm, fuzzy feeling hit her immediately. She stood in the crow's nest until the sun was just disappearing over the horizon.

A figure had appeared behind her without her knowing. She would've been on-guard if she didn't feel a reassuring and comforting feeling in the figure. He joined her at the railing, watching the sunset. She caught him in her peripherals.

A comfortable, familiar feeling around him, but she couldn't place him. The muscular build, the everyday clothes, the strong arms, and the one eye…..

 _Wait, one eye?_

She turned to get a better look at him. How could she have not recognized him before? The eyepatch was still there, and his one eye was as blue as ever. He still had a ponytail, but his scars were gone. And the horn, the shrapnel, gone.

"Snake?" He just smiled at her, leaving her in the duality of awe and comfort.

She was to about to say something else as the sun finally disappeared from the horizon and darkness fell. The boat, she, was alone in the dark, with nowhere to go. She heard rope beginning to snap, wood beginning to splinter and beams collapse. The whole boat was being destroyed in seconds. The vessel she had worked endless amounts of time on had begun unravelling, destroying itself, sinking.

The thought hit her like a blow to the back of the head before she fell.

" _This isn't real…."_


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry that it's been a long time since I updated. Had a lot of things going on mixed with writer's block. This is a short chapter. But more will follow as fast as I can write when it gets close to Thanksgiving and Christmas.**

Surrounded by snow.

He had never particularly liked snow. Jobs where it snowed were always too damn cold for his liking.

That was why he always operated in warm, relatively humid AOs.

He watched the chopper fly away in the distance, until it disappeared behind the mountain face.

He didn't particularly like climbing either, especially mountains. He looked around the area where he had set up camp for the time being. He took his iDroid out, trying to make sense of where his location was.

He had been contacted by a scientist, a very rich man. The scientist was willing to part with 3,000,000 rubles to pay Diamond Dogs for doing this job. Diamond Dogs (or rather, Snake) had been contracted to infiltrate a remote location in Siberia. The scientist either didn't have or wouldn't share any other information about the location. It was all too suspicious, he didn't give his reason for contacting them, but he agreed to do the mission.

It was minus 12 degrees Fahrenheit in the mountains and it was bound to get colder. The intel team had scouted the area, being sure to include that there was a violent blizzard en-route to that area within a few hours.

He began his descent towards the location, stopping to use his Int. Scope and set a marker so as not to get lost. It was good to finally get back into his Sneaking Suit. Over the years, he had gotten into the field less and less. Business was always booming, and more people had come in by the crowds every month.

Even Snake had to trade in micromanaging in for full-time micromanaging. Diamond Dogs was nothing short of a full-scale army that could probably take over a small country if they wanted to.

Yet here he was in the heart of Siberia, taking a job they knew next to nothing about. He could admit that he missed being here, actually doing something he was good at. Businessman wasn't his ideal occupation, anyway.

"Kaz, I'm on the ground, moving towards the site," Snake said through his radio. He unholstered his rifle, making sure that it was primed and ready to fire.

"We hear ya, Boss. It's good to be back on the battlefield, isn't it?" Kaz responded.

"It does. Be my eyes and ears on this one, OK?" "Can do, Boss. The site you're about to infiltrate is…that's odd. This site isn't on any maps that we have and the Intel team couldn't get close enough to determine anything. Boss, I don't know if this is a good idea, going in without intel. You still wanna go through with this mission, Boss?"

Something didn't feel right. But nothing ever felt right. He learned to always keep that feeling close, it kept him alert and on edge. He knew he might regret this decision.

"Affirmative. Let's just classify this as an OSP mission of sorts, huh?"

"Whatever you say, Boss. Just come back safe and sound."

Snake made sure his equipment was fastened and fastened tight in case of severe winds blowing his equipment and himself away.

"Boss, be advised. Once you infiltrate the compound, we won't be able to send in any backup," Kaz announced over Codec.

"Just like always, huh?" "We just pulled all of our people from the area. That blizzard has been upgraded. It's pattern is unlike anything I've seen. Boss…., if you're continuing on with the mission, you're gonna want to find some shelter fast."

"Copy that." Snake fastened his sling for his rifle, and began making his way slowly, but with haste.

" _This is gonna be a long walk."_ He made his way up the first hill of the barren, frozen landscape.

(-)

He had walked. Walked and walked some more.

The snow was actually quite beautiful, as much as he hated it. The mountains were a nice touch for the view as well.

Pretty soon, though, the view disappeared. All that he could see was snow. It was a whiteout. He looked back about 20 yards. He could barely see his tracks in the snow from that distance.

He signaled on his end of the codec. "Boss? You need anything?" Kaz answered. "Yeah, I need you to tell me where I'm going, if there's anything close by. It's a whiteout here," Snake responded. "I'll look through some of the intel we've received on the region in your vicinity. Just keep moving and stay on task. Out," Kaz said.

Snake signed off on his end of the codec. He could feel himself shivering a little. _How cold is it?_ (mental sigh) _Should've checked on the way here._

A shadow caught his eye, forcing him to squint to make it out. It looked like a small shed. He trekked once more through the snow towards it.

 _How do I know I'm not going in circles?_ He tried to ignore that train of thought.

(-)(-)(-)

He remembered to turn the light on in the small, enclosed space. It was freezing outside. The door could barely close due to ice. He felt around for a light switch. The bulb, despite having some icicles around it, still flickered on.

The light fell on dozens of filing cabinets in his line of vision. Since this mission was going nowhere fast, he thought he might rummage through these files and see what he could find. It didn't take ten seconds for him to find something.

"Kaz, do you read?" Snake inquired. "We read, Boss, you find something?" Kaz responded.

"I found a bunch of file cabinets in a room. Dozens of them. All full of files."

"Files? What kind?" "Let me check."

He started scanning through all the files, having nothing more worthwhile to do. He considered giving up after the third cabinet, that there was nothing there to begin with.

He rummaged through what he intended to be the last of the documents. A file with a familiar location caught his eye, prompting him to read through it. He remembered approving a large supply drop to a few battalions in the region where they'd been sent. They had sustained heavy losses. Certain details jumped out at him, and the more he read, the more his brow furrowed.

"Kaz, I've found something. Something huge," Snake radioed. He began checking other cabinets. "Boss? What have you found?" Kaz asked worriedly.

A few more minutes of speed-reading confirmed his suspicion.

"Kaz. These files contain details of missions where we were involved," Snake finally said.

"What else?"

"These missions date from 1984 up to a month ago, but this shed looks like it hasn't been used in years."

"Boss. Listen, I don't want to take any chances. Let's abort the mission while we can and send more men in. There are plenty of good soldiers who'd love to follow you there," Kaz pleaded.

"No. I have to find out why these are here. Something weird is going on," Snake said with finality.

(-)(-)(-)

Snake trekked out into the snow once more, not really knowing where to go next.

(sharp breath) _It's cold. It is…..really cold._

His ears caught something resonating even through the wind. The sound was getting closer and farther away at the same time. Choppers. Military-grade choppers.

Snake made haste to where the sounds came from, pausing every few minutes to listen for the choppers. He was in luck, he managed to pick some out whenever he did stop. That could also be a potential threat. Wherever those choppers were heading, there were a lot of them. That meant that there was an outpost of some kind. There had to be.

(-)(-)(-)

"Boss, how are you? Making any progress?" Kaz inquired.

"Not really. Just….hating the cold, so far. Kinda wish I had a Cuban with me," Snake responded. "Even my bionic arm is shaking."

"Well, you'll be happy to know that judging by the sounds of those choppers, you have about 30 meters before you hit a clear view of your target," Kaz assessed.

"Good to hear. Snake out," he signed off.

Snake walked through a few more feet of snow before he finally got a vantage point.

He should've expected something bigger than a simple outpost. This was a fucking forward operating base.

He couldn't help but marvel at the immensity of what looked like a base. There had to be at least a few dozen choppers lined up on their respective platforms. The place was built on a supposedly abandoned dam, but after the "shed" Snake wasn't underestimating anything.

There had to be enough weapons, provisions and men to inhabit half a small country. "Kaz, I've found it," Snake radioed. Snow was starting to fall more heavily now, he noticed.

"Alright Boss, how do you wanna do this? Play it safe? Or take your chances?" another voice rose over the radio. "Glad you finally decided to join us, Ocelot," Snake responded. "Any advice?"

"Well, I guess going through the front gate isn't really your style, is it?" said Ocelot. "No, it isn't," Snake chuckled.

Snake took out his Int. Scope. It seemed that there was some activity in a nearby village not too far from the dam itself. He surveyed the area for a few more minutes before he made up his mind.

"They seem to be moving really expensive equipment of some kind, experimental equipment," Snake observed. "What's an army want with experimental equipment?" Kaz questioned. "Could it be Cipher?" Ocelot inquired. "Possibly. Let's not rule anything out yet," Snake concluded. He began his way towards the village, where it would provide more cover than the plain snow.

"Boss, you know it could be a trap, right?" Kaz inquired.

Snake almost responded when a brilliant explosion protruded from the center of the dam, flooding the entire valley with light. "Kaz, the dam just exploded," Snake reported. "From what?" Kaz asked. "What caused it?"

He used his Int. Scope to see what was going on. Dozens of bodies lined the top of the dam. The explosion had extended to the top of it. Soldiers were running and panicked, with sergeants barking orders, flooding the dam and village with activity. This was too elaborate to be a trap.

"I don't know," Snake began. He put his Int. Scope away. "But I'm going to take a closer look. I'll go through the village and see what I can find."

And with that, Snake set off, climbing down towards the debris and destruction.

 **I'll try to get more chapters up. I know where to go with the story now, so I might be uploading more chapters. Don't quote me, but I will try to upload more over the holidays.**


End file.
